Relics of Another Age
by Slinky-and-the-BloodyWands
Summary: BtVS/Angel/Firefly xover. Series of one-shots set in the same universe. Dawn and Connor find themselves aboard Serenity after being asleep for 500 years.
1. Lost in Space, Redux

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, or_ Firefly._ Written for fun, not profit.

**A/N:** This is a series of one-shots set in the same crossover universe. I thought it would be easier for readers to keep with the stories if I posted them as chapters of one fic. I hope you enjoy this. The setting is post_ BtVS/Angel_, and pre-_Serenity_.

* * *

**_Relics of Another Age_**

Series Intro:  
_It was no coincidence that Wolfram and Hart seemed to disappear off the face of the planet the day a few thousand humans vanished into thin air, amongst them the offspring of Champions, Connor Reilly and Dawn Summers. The two wake into an unfamiliar 'verse where there are new friends to be made and old enemies to be hunted down. What's the connection between Wolfram and Hart and the mysterious Blue Sun? Did Jayne Cobb once go by another name? And are the Hands of Blue more than experiments gone wrong? Join the Relics of Another Age and find out._

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**_"Lost in Space, Redux"_  
**

**Summary: Didn't look much like cryo pods. Looked more like food storage, which is why they'd took 'em in the first place. Mal certainly wasn't looking to put more kids on Serenity.**

* * *

"But the ghosts aren't dead yet."

Her voice was low, but those dark eyes pierced Mal with such ferocity that he fully stopped what he was doing. He recognized the expression on her face as worry building up to something more, and raised his brow, not realizing he had about a second left before that "something more" reared its head.

"They're not dead!" River screamed. And she stopped, to breathe. Her voice soft, she added, "They wanted them here and not here. Dead and not dead. Got what they wanted, but then they lost them."

The cargo bay went quiet.

Jayne groaned, chewing his jaw, and slammed down his tool on the side of the box. "What's the gorram hold up?"he snapped. "Tell nutty there that we're in the middle of somethin' important."

Zoe seemed to agree, but she kept quiet, shooting Mal a questioning glance. It wasn't often that the captain got so caught up in River's ramblings, but this time…this time he looked transfixed by what she'd said and that didn't leave Zoe sitting happy.

Finally, Mal pulled away from her pinning gaze, actually looked at what he and his crew were doing.

They'd been sent on a job in the Blackout, and it was simple enough. One of their associates had been running on a mangled ship and missing the right equipment for the pick-up, so they'd called on Serenity's crew, offering a percentage of the find. All the crew had to do was collect and hope the merchandise in the floater was worth the fuel out there.

As it turned out, the floater in question looked like it had been through hell and back. No identifying marking of any kind, untouched by Reaver and Alliance alike. It was almost eerily blank of insignia, and it was no small wonder that no one had picked up on it before…The vessel itself was damned near tiny, as if its whole cockpit had been blown, and the make of it even Kaylee couldn't quite determine. Inside, though, they'd gotten lucky. Two fine bins, well sealed, and bearing the curving indigo logo for Blue Sun. Beneath the one logo was another, one they didn't quite recognize, but it was embossed into the metal latch, forming squarish letters: W&H.

Food or meds, likely; was still promising more than a few platinums worth of goods, that was for sure. A nice haul. Or so they'd hoped.

River reached out, touching the side of the first bin. Mal followed her movement, his fingertips against the cool metal, and a sense of dread settled over him.

"Zoe, go get the doc." He shot his old friend a glance. "We might have a bit of trouble."

She gave him a curt nod and took off. Jayne shook his head, confused, but, for once, he kept his mouth shut.

"Ghosts," Mal said, echoing the young woman. "One in each?"

River nodded in reply. "They come, two by two," River assured. "They've been quiet so long…"

"River! River are you alright?" Simon called, his feet clattering against the stairs, Zoe at his heels.

River didn't reply to him, softly caressing the metal beneath her palm. Mal stood up straight again, turning to face the younger man.

"You did some research on cryo." A statement of fact, because everyone in the bay knew Simon didn't do things half-way when it came to keeping his little sister safe. "Know anything about the older models?"

Simon looked confused as to why he and his kit were in the cargo bay, then his eyes widened a little when they hit the bins. "Wait-are you saying… You think these might be cryogenic stasis pods? But, these aren't shaped anything like the ones we use today. For starters…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "You're right, though, they do resemble the earliest models. Though, surely there wouldn't be a Blue Sun marking on such an…antique."

"The ghosts aren't dead," River said, as if to remind everyone.

Simon's brow wrinkled, then smoothed with understanding. "I'm afraid you're wrong, _mei mei._These pods are far too old to still be in use."

Jayne waved his hand, catching their attention. "You sayin' there ain't anything worth selling in these?" At their silence, he growled. "Ruttin' waste of time that was."

River rolled her eyes, apparently tired of waiting around, because she crossed to the other side of the box in an instance and slid her hand over a lever that the crew had missed. A loud hiss sounded, and the men jumped back in alarm.

"No, River," Simon breathed, but it was too late. She'd already moved to the second pod.

When the damn mist lifted, Mal raised a brow at the contents. "Huh. Didn't figure this would happen again."

Jayne shook his head. "We ain't gonna get a single bill for this, are we?"

* * *

The girl had been the first to awaken, and she hadn't been none too pleased to find herself in the present of Malcolm Reynolds. The captain found himself apologizing to the flailing youth, which, in itself, was so miraculous that it left the others stunned.

River had appeared, the little thing somehow hidden away during the worst of the panic, and whispered something into the girl's ear. Whatever it was, the stranger paused, took a breath, and stared out at the infirmary with widened eyes.

"Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore," she said, her first words that weren't a screaming threat in the captain's direction.

Simon was careful with her, checking vitals. "Do you remember your name?" he asked.

She looked at him like he was an idiot, and Malcolm found himself fighting a grin, despite his bruised ribs. "Dawn," she replied, "why wouldn't I remember that?"

And she'd blacked out.

* * *

The girl, Dawn, had helped when the boy had come around. They'd asked if she knew him, and at first, she'd said no…Then the cobwebs had cleared.

"I know who he might be," she had finally said.

He was just as cautious as her, just as alarmed. And the dangerous glint in his eye told Mal that if the boy decided he didn't care much for the crew, his fists were gonna do some proper damage. The captain kept his hand on his gun.

"I'm Dawn," the girl said, an introduction.

"Connor," he replied. His brow folded. "You're Dawn Summers…the Slayer's sister?"

And they broke into a lot of terms and names Mal couldn't keep up with. Didn't sound much like purple belly talk, but he was cautious, listening for code.

"We're not in L.A., are we?" he asked.

River stood at the doorway, and she answered for Dawn. "You're ghosts," she said, "but you can still breath. They wanted you dead, but not dead. You're neither."

The boy was nodding, as if the words were his instead of hers.

Dawn raised a brow. "Say, huh?"

Mal approved, a girl after his own mind.

* * *

Truth be told, Mal was lying when he made the argument to dump them. Every fiber of his being told him they were a liability, worse even than the brother/sister duo he'd allowed to stay aboard, but there was something else, some deep seed inside him, that made him believe it was in his own best interest to keep them around. They felt... precious, like some heirlooms he couldn't quite give up.

He'd let the ladies, Simon being amongst the count, convince him to keep the kids, least til they were back in their right state.

'Course, that was before they mentioned the part about being 500 years old. If he'd known that then, he might have echoed Jayne's sentiment: "Gorram wonderful."


	2. When Someone Upstairs Hates You

**Prompt/Prompter:** Wishlist 2011. MissE requested a Zoe and Cordelia stand-off featuring this gem, "You bitch! You used my body, now you think you can get away with it? Not on my Pradas, you don't!" I decided to set that moment in my Relics of Another Age universe.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, _Angel_, or_ Firefly_.

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**"When Someone Upstairs Hates You"**

* * *

The ship rocked, ever so slightly, as if God himself had flicked it across the nose, and Mal rushed into the dining hall, weapon drawn, body winded. The clap of footsteps announced the next two to arrive, and the men peaked over the captain's shoulder, looking for trouble that their eyes just couldn't seem to find.

"What's the gorrum ruckus about?" Jayne snapped.

The new boy, Connor, stood next to him, wiping a layer of sweat off his brow, and showing little concern. In fact, his lazy, blue gaze looked as wet as his post-sparring skin. Regret showed in his eyes. Zoe wondered, right then and there, if he knew. If somehow that boy knew exactly what had just happened. If he had sensed it.

"Zoe, report…?" the captain was rightly confused.

"Oh, God," Kaylee muttered from her spot in the corner. Then she seemed to hear her own words and raised a brow. "Was that God?"

Someone fell into a fit of giggles. Zoe didn't have to look far to find the source — Dawn Summers, the other young passenger they'd picked-up not too long back, was nearly bent over, laughing. Connor watched her, not even a hint of a smile on his face. That expression, regret, remained in place.

Zoe wasn't sure what that was all about.

"Not God," Connor answered, for Kaylee.

Mal didn't appear too pleased with his lack of in-the-know, but he stepped further into the room and lowered his weapon, nevertheless.

Zoe blinked, swallowed, and replied, "Sir, we had an unexpected visitor… She's gone now. I think."

And, of course, that didn't answer anything, but Zoe was too rattled to continue. Wash held tight to his wife's hand, his shoulder to hers; the closeness was a promise. "Baby," he whispered, shaking his head, "someone upstairs_ really_ hates you."

Zoe figured you learned something new every day, but, damned, if today's lesson wasn't a long one.

* * *

**5 Minutes Earlier**

* * *

Zoe would, from this point out, 'ever note the subtlety with which River Tam announced the coming of a life-changing event.

River had eaten earlier, when most the other men-folk had settled down for a game and a bite, but it was no surprise that she'd circled back to the dining hall when Wash took his meal.

Not that the girl really cared what Zoe and her husband might be up to — the Tams picked favorites, and Zoe didn't try to fool herself into thinking otherwise. 'Course, Zoe didn't much blame River, since she herself was currently perched against her own personal favorite's chair.

As if he knew his name was floating across her mind, Wash stared up at his wife with an adoring grin on his face. "You know what I'd really love right now?" he asked, softly. Zoe rolled her eyes, knowing the request was going to be the same as he'd posed repeatedly since Dawnie and Connor — or as Jayne had dubbed them, "the ancient brats" — had told the crew where they were really from. Wash sighed, dreamily, "To see a T-Rex. Even just the skeleton."

"You enjoy getting me worked up before bed, don't you?"

Wash's grin widened. "I knew you'd catch on, _bao bay._"

Zoe would normally make a few rather private suggestions at this point, but she let her attention drift again to the other end of the table, where the other three women currently on the ship sat. It was apparent that, no, River wasn't there for politeness, but to steal the attention of her newest friend.

Dark hair falling in ringlets over the tabletop, River leaned forward and poked Dawn on the nose, interrupting the dialogue between the ship's newest female passenger and Kaylee, both of whom blinked at her with interest.

River sat a little straighter, cocked her head, and made a verbal note. Perhaps to help Dawn learn the lingo, perhaps to announce impending doom: "Shiny doesn't always mean nice."

It came two seconds later, a bright flash of light, blinding the diners at the table and setting off every sensor on Serenity.

* * *

There was a problem, of course, with this kind of travel, and it was totally glossed over in the pamphlet they hand out at the How to Be a Butt Monkey for the Powers that Be Academy — also known as that big white light wash-out room that enlightens its occupants. Even though Cordelia had been in her current state for some time now, she hadn't had many occasions to move between the Here and There, and when she had, the There had been in a different galaxy.

The trip was both agonizingly long and instantaneous for a being such as herself, partly because of the distance, partly because slipping through dimensions felt a little like being soaked into a sponge and rung back out again over an ocean. Lots of scattering of bits and pieces, lots of reassembling.

On the whole, she didn't like it.

There was also the little matter of her breaking a few dozen rules by taking this vacation — centuries spent in the celestial turnstile or not, she was still Cordelia Chase, and she was damn-well going to do what she set out to do.

Only —

_Back to the problem with this kind of travel_ —

Cordelia wasn't exactly sure what she'd set out to do. Rule breaking lead to interference and interference led to the bosses tugging her strings. . . Cordelia had barely found form when she felt them, almost like ropes around her being, tugging at each and every molecule and trying to persuade her to come back. The tugging didn't stop at her body, either — her mind was being hit with the riot hoses at full blast.

So, she couldn't be blamed, could she? For the way she came out on the other side, rattling off the only thoughts that seemed to be able to leave her mouth when she spotted_ that _face:

It clung, that Thing, to her, invading, possessing, willing —"_You bitch_!" she hissed. Seducing — manipulating — murdering — "_You used my body, now you think you can get away with it_?" And she'd watched from high above, after. After. After It was born into the world. Wearing _that_ face. Calling itself Jasmine. "_Not on my Pradas, you don't!_"

"Cordelia?"

It hadn't spoken. It dared to look confused. "Don't even act like you don't know what I'm talking about!"

The tugging of the other side intensified, but sudden jerk must have rattled a few of the pieces back into place, because she realized that the wide-eyed, dumbfounded expression on the other woman's face looked downright genuine…And it was quickly transforming from shock to anger. No peace on Earth. No Earth here to find peace. This woman was strong, but no goddess.

Cordelia blinked. "Oh. Freakin' dopplegangers."

The one that looked like the Thing, shifted into a strong stance, guarding the man behind her. Protective of what was hers. "What is she, Dawn?"

"_Ai-yah. Tyen-ah..."_

Those words served as a reminder. There were others here, others…Cordelia lost some of her venom, her brow wrinkled. "I'm not here for you," she told the Jasmine-look-alike, and gave a short, tense chuckle. "Oops."

She stared down the length of the table. Three other women sat there, all of them young.

"Cordelia?"

A repeated question. Cordelia's eyes widened as she remembered her reason for the trip. A warning…There was a warning.

"Dawn?" She smiled, the heat dropping off her face. "Dawn, where's Connor? I had to come, had to warn you, but I can't stay long. They're not gone. They're still in this dimension. They're here — "

"Who's still here?"

The who floated at the back of her mind, the answer just out of grasp. "The Home Office," Cordelia replied, at a near whisper, her thoughts mixed, collapsed, collided…She could feel it, the power shifting around her. The bosses knew. They'd found her. And they couldn't afford to lose the contract she was about to break. "Blue S — "

The word never finished leaving her mouth. The woman was gone in a flash of light.

* * *

"Shiny doesn't always mean nice," River said. Because it bore repeating.

Zoe stared at the spot where the being had been, floating in a white blaze of light. "It sure doesn't." She blinked. "What just happened?"

Wash trembled against her back, his arm around her waist. "More importantly, what's a Prada?"

* * *

**End Notes:** If you're wondering how Connor reacted to Jayne and Zoe's appearances, never fear. That is a subject for a future one-shot. Hope you guys enjoyed this one.


	3. There's Power in the Blood

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Firefly, Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel. Written for fun, not profit.

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**_Relics of Another Age_**

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**"There's Power in the Blood"  
**

**_Summary: Connor contemplates the dopplegangers of the 'verse, and River puts his mind to ease. Well, mostly._**

* * *

In some ways, it was like his world had blown up, and all the smaller pieces were spread out across the universe, waiting for him to hopscotch from one fragment of his past to the next. Only, Connor didn't understand the goal of the game. Would he win a prize if he saw them all, reached the end, and doubled back? Would he find himself in L.A. again, facing off a hoard of demons, if he won? Maybe he didn't fully understand hopscotch. He'd admit as much.

What he did understand was the weight of the tool in his hand. It was heavy, and why it was stored in the engine room for feather-weight Kaylee to use, he had no idea. The image of him, walking with it held lazily in one hand, probably should have been cause for a second glance, but the rest of the crew was busying themselves around the ship

—_the ship, Serenity, his new home, in space, hundreds of years in the future, God, it was all too much_—

As they usually were and hadn't quite picked on how he was a bit stronger than a guy of his stature probably should be. He'd cross that bridge when he got there; after all, the group was still, weeks since their arrival, reeling over that whole "we're five-hundred-years old and from Earth-That-Was" thing.

Connor paused when he heard Dawn's lightning quick voice spouting something at a retreating Malcolm Reynolds. A fresh serving of envy was plopped down onto his already full plate. Dawn was fitting in better than he was, here. Maybe he was also a little envious that she seemed to be spreading her time out amongst the crew, trying to get to know them all, while he was stuck looking sullen in his quietness. Shouldn't she be spending more time with him? They kind of had more in common, didn't they?

He shook his head and took the stairs two at a time, careful not to tap the railing with the weighty wrench. His dissent was nearly silent, and the man on the cargo bay floor, hunched forward in study of a grate on the far side, didn't look up as he approached. Connor's grip tightened on the tool, and he raised it higher, feeling his jaw click as it set in anger.

The man didn't have to turn, because Connor knew his face well by now. After all, one of the young man's last memories before waking up here was of being in L.A., fighting the good fight, cleaning up a mess he hadn't made—and it was, in part, because a not-a-man with that very same face had been defeated. Killed.

Connor had been there for the moment when Angel had drunk from this Child of the Senior Partners. Destroyed him by using his own power against him. And, if Marcus Hamilton was dead, he couldn't be here posing as Jayne Cobb. Still, Connor felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when the face in question looked at him.

For a moment, he saw red, his inner predator ready to take the advantage, make a strike at the potential threat; his inner human occupied by memories of what it felt like to get tossed like a rag doll by that evil son of a bitch Hamilton.

"Took your ruttin' time, didn't ya?" Jayne snapped, but didn't move to take the tool, shifting out of the way instead. "Well, you gonna stand around or use that thing?"

Connor considered it before giving a nod and raising the wrench. He swung it down, catching the grate's oversized lip and giving a twist. A release popped free from where it had been jammed, and the hidden door eased open, showing the secret storage space below.

Jayne slapped Connor across the back. "Bout time we had the space for use again—got sealed up tight after a lil' accident involving explosives." He grimaced at a memory, then shot his gaze to Connor. "We sparrin' after our meal?"

Connor nodded again, realizing he was wrong. Most the crew hadn't realized how strong or fast he was, but Jayne Cobb knew. And for some reason, he wasn't bringing it up.

"Wouldn't miss it," Connor noted.

* * *

Connor felt like a big cat pacing his cage, and he was pretty sure it was freaking out the crew, but it couldn't be helped. He was rattled. Not just because of his situation, which, he believed, in fairness, should be enough to rattle anyone. No, it was the message from the Powers That Be—or, the lack of a message from the Powers That Be—that had his stomach in knots.

Dawn grabbed him by the elbow, steering him down to their bunk. He barely noticed. Neither of them spoke until he eased down onto his bed. It was directly across from hers, since they'd been given a shared room, despite the fact that they didn't actually know one another before this whole outer-space adventure thing.

"Ancient brats go together," had been the general consensus. But Connor figured it had more to do with it being easier for the crew to trap them down here if they turned out to be trouble. That Captain Reynolds was sneaky. Connor could live with that.

Dawn settled in beside him and sighed. "You're still worked up over that warning about the 'home office' thing, right?" She didn't wait for him to answer. They'd had this conversation before. "Listen, Connor, I'm sorry you missed Cordy's visit—"

He stiffened. He'd hoped she hadn't noticed that look of disappointment on his face when he realized his dead friend had literally popped in without saying a word to him. "I'm a bit more concerned about the fact that Wolfram and Hart, the people responsible for, _you know_, destroying my life repeatedly, is possibly still in existence."

It came out harsher than he'd intended, but he didn't take it back, because it was true. Dawn smacked his arm for it.

"Oh, yeah, because silly me had forgotten about that part?" She rolled her eyes at him. "Self absorbed, much? You know, moments like this, you totally remind me of your father."

"Hey!"

Dawn chuckled, leaning back against the wall. "It's true, young Sir Broods-A-Lot. Your bloodline is apparent, even without the Brow-of-Judgment—" She snorted, and shook her head. "Sorry, that one came straight from Spike. You got to meet Spike, right?"

His crooked smile was answer enough, and she grinned back. The two of them had tried to establish a timeline, but their time in cryo hadn't exactly made their final memories any clearer. Mostly, they'd only put together that he'd been taken first…by whoever had done the taking—money was on Wolfram and Hart's involvement. They'd come to the conclusion because Dawn and her sister's organization had gotten word from Angel, and the fact that Connor was missing had been brought up. Dawn didn't say it, but judging from her expression, that had been an awkward conversation from her end, especially since she—and everyone else—hadn't know about Connor's very-human existence.

Something in Connor's chest tightened every time he considered that Angel had been looking for him and never found him. And, something inside him died every time he didn't consider that the Reillys had probably been doing the same... That whole memories layered on top of memories thing was a real bitch at times.

Maybe Dawn was right about the brooding. He had to kick that habit. So, he leaned back beside her, putting his shoulder against hers as if they were watching something more entertaining than the wall on the other side of the small quarters.

"I'll be chipper," he promised, sounding anything but.

Dawn lolled her head to the side, giving him an amused glance. "Yeah. Uh-huh."

He shrugged. "Our lives are weird."

"Understatement of the…well, _several_ centuries, I guess." Dawn pursed her lips—Connor was beginning to recognize that as her thinking face. "You told me about Zoe. About what Cordy meant about her being a doppelganger, and how Jayne looked like a Big Bad you'd faced, too. And I told you about the Captain looking like that jerkface Caleb." She openly shivered at the memory. "We concluded that it couldn't be a coincidence, that we ended up here, with these people who have dead evil twins."

"Well regurgitated," Connor noted, "but do you have a point behind bringing all this back up?"

Dawn made a face. "Yes, I do. Maybe Cordy isn't the only Power on our side. I mean, maybe some part of this was planned…for better or worse."

"It's like a dream." Connor frowned, unconsciously pinching his arm. "When you're sleeping, pieces from your life just start to show up. Bad guys become good guys. Evil law firms turn into mysterious corporations. And there's always a wacky setting—case in point, the whole final frontier amongst the stars vibe."

"Only we can't wake up from this. And, also, there aren't any clowns or rubber chickens." Dawn pushed herself back up, turning to face him. "Okay, your brood is rubbing off on me. We're going to escape this funk, and do you want to know how?"

Connor couldn't help but smile. Something about her wide eyes and determined voice was endearing. "How?"

"We're going to take advantage of being here. We're going to find answers to our questions. And, then, time allowing, we're going to kick the asses of those who kidnapped us and put us to sleep for way too many centuries."

"You know, that sounds like a good plan."

"I have them on occasion."

* * *

Simon's voice bellowed after him, asking about his hand, but Connor pretended not to hear him. After all, the doc couldn't leave his current patient, a very bitchy Jayne, to follow him out. Connor stared down at his fist, at the knuckles coated in someone else's blood.

The sparring session had went alright. Until it suddenly hadn't.

Jayne would be fine, though. Connor hadn't taken him down hard enough to do lasting damage, just hard enough to ensure he was human and _could _be taken down. Dawn's plan had resounded in his mind the whole time; she was right, they needed to figure out who did this them. But, Connor wanted to make sure the one pulling their puppet strings wasn't already on the ship with them.

"Should have asked."

Connor glanced up. River was nearly as quiet as he was when she put her mind to it. He nodded in greeting. "Didn't know I was going to do it until I did," he explained.

"I'd already checked," River noted. "Saw his face in the Sun and had to knife him. He bled well enough."

"Like a human." Connor nodded to himself, not caring if she followed. River brought out a part of him he sometimes forgot about. A boy who'd just escaped monster-land. "Just a man. Still doesn't explain the matching face. Any of the matching faces."

River cocked her head in thought. "Ghosts," she noted. "Ghosts in our veins, ghosts in our cells. Only so many faces to go around." Her eyes focused on the doorway behind Connor, leading down to where Jayne was cursing a blue streak. "No power in his blood, just in his heart."

Connor stared back. "I agree. What about you, River? Is there power in your blood?"

She narrowed her eyes, then grinned slowly. "Dead but not dead—you're talkative for corpses. Someone's bound to hear. Let them."

Connor echoed the words. "Let them."

The clatter of footsteps drew their attention, and Mal appeared, his stern expression wavering into the territory of worry as it hopped from Connor to River and back again. "_Tzao gao, _why do I get the feelin' you two are up to somethin' that's gonna leave me pinched?"

Connor shrugged. "Not a clue, Captain."

River imitated him. "Can't stop fate," she noted, and gave Connor a wink. "Can only slow it down."

Mal blinked. "Wait—what?"

But Connor knew the words were meant for him and realized the part that he had and Dawn had ignored. The why. Why were they taken in the first place? Maybe Dawn had been right. Maybe it was because they had a job to do here, and now. A job they didn't get a chance to do back in their own time—or a job someone wanted to stop them from finishing then... _Can't stop fate_. _Can only slow it down_—the thought put a smile on his face.


End file.
